<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>made up by the english by heavyskeleton</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27226342">made up by the english</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavyskeleton/pseuds/heavyskeleton'>heavyskeleton</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>My Chemical Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Multi, Scotland, Scottish Food, not worth reading</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:00:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27226342</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavyskeleton/pseuds/heavyskeleton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant has some very strong opinions on food. Frank and Gerard make them breakfast.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Iero/Grant Morrison/Gerard Way</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>made up by the english</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is a shitpost of the highest degree and it only exists because im scottish and have very strong opinions on scottish food and specifically the traditional scottish breakfast.</p><p>naturally i channelled my square sausage anger through my favourite scot grant morrison i love you </p><p>took some liberties though because apparently no one in this fic is vegetarian oopsie look it doesnt really matter this isnt meant to be taken seriously hahaha </p><p>also huge cw for food </p><p>hope u hate it</p><p>EDIT 3/12/2020 - grant's pronouns have been updated. took me long enough - sorry about that!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Grant wakes in a frenzy, the sound of panicked swearing immediately alerting them and, after a second of groggy confusion, the undeniable scent of burning food concerning them. To their left, they notice that their boys aren’t in the bed with them, though the sheets are still warm and smell faintly of cigarettes and sweet coconut shampoo. </p><p>Listening intently, Grant realises the swearing ended as abruptly as it had begun, the sound now replaced by the hollow clanging sounds of pots and pans - assumedly in the kitchen. Feeling slightly (see: not even a little bit) less concerned, Grant rolls out of bed, pulling on their dressing gown and plodding heavily towards the kitchen. </p><p>Though they know they shouldn’t, Grant stops outside the closed kitchen door to hear what mischief they can only assume their boys are causing. Hushed whispers, undoubtedly frustrated, channel out through the cracks in the door and Grant struggles not to laugh at what they reveal so as not to alert them to their presence. </p><p>“Trust you to burn the kitchen down - I only went out for a cigarette!” Exclaims one gravelly voice. </p><p>“Your third of the morning. And it’s hardly burnt down, is it?” Comes another tired sounding comment, broken up as the sounds of utensils in pots filter through, so Grant has to strain their ears to hear everything. </p><p>“Well it’s not edible either. What’s Grant going to think? Burning their food on the first morning we’re here. Gimme that-”</p><p>Giggling profusely, Grant pushes the door open, takes one look at the state of their kitchen - the state of the boys - and turns back around. </p><p>Leaning against the wall for support, their chest heaves as they wheezes for air, laughing heartily. As they turn around once again the sight of their lovers fighting over a spatula, both with smears of baked beans on their cheeks sets them off again. </p><p>“Grant! It’s not funny. Frank burnt the sausages and -”</p><p>“I burnt the sausages?” Frank interrupts. “Weren’t you just complaining that I was outside? And you were the one that threw beans at me! Grant, he’s being very immature.” </p><p>“Shut up, Frank. Good morning Grant, we made you breakfast.” Gerard smiles shyly, a blush high on his cheeks and his hands clasped loosely in front of himself. </p><p>“Did you, aye? I imagine the sausages are perfectly cooked? Are they real sausages?” Grant knows teasing their loves is probably unfair, but they really can’t help themself. </p><p>Both Frank and Gerard roll their eyes, having known Grant for a long time there’s no way they could have forgotten their opinions on Scottish food. There have been many occasions where Frank and Gerard have had to listen to Grant drunkenly explain that “no, you don't get it! Square sausage is real sausage. Link sausage is fake - made up by the English, I suspect.”</p><p>With that in mind, when the pair had decided to make Grant a “traditional Scottish breakfast”, the first thing they had done was buy square, lorne sausage (although they made sure to buy normal link sausages for themselves, not entirely convinced that Grant wasn’t a raging lunatic). </p><p>Nodding, Frank tugs on Grant’s sleeve, pulling them over to the cooker to show them their efforts. </p><p>Grant is impressed. Glancing across the various burners on the range cooker, they can see the boys have really outdone themselves. The centre griddle is covered in sizzling bacon (definitely bought in town as it looks nothing like boring American bacon), and the various frying pans surrounding it are full of all of their favourite comfort foods. One pan with potato scones, one with real sausages - although another with fake ones, too - another pan with what seems to be black pudding, and another with haggis rounds. A saucepan sits precariously on the very edge of the cooker, baked beans bubbling inside it, with a revealing smear of sauce on the outside. Bending down to see the oven, Grant notices with glee that there are also frozen hash browns and a stack of fried eggs, presumably being kept warm while everything else cooks. </p><p>And yes, the sausages are charred, maybe the black pudding is a little crumbly and criminally, they have forgotten the fried tomatoes and mushrooms - but Grant is sure nothing could make this moment any better. </p><p>Maybe they'll even eat some of the link sausages. Probably not.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sincerest apologies to anyone who has never tried square sausage w tattie scones ur really missing out</p><p>EDIT 3/12/2020 - please let me know in the comments if any of grant's pronouns are incorrect! i think i fixed them all but if i missed any please please correct me</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>